


Sirius Ascendant

by bubblewrapstargirl



Series: Godstiel and St Dean [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Dean Winchester, Canon Typical Violence, Dialogue taken from the episode, Episode: s09e05 Dog Dean Afternoon, Gen, Godstiel: Castiel as God, Implied Relationships, Season/Series 09, Shamanism, Talking Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:58:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblewrapstargirl/pseuds/bubblewrapstargirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam then gets persuaded to give a Yorkie a belly rub in exchange for information. Which would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that Dean revealed that the Yorkie found him attractive, and apparently called him a ‘tall drink’; which is knowledge Sam could happily have lived his whole life without knowing, “Oh my god, Dean!”</p><p>Dean just flounces off with his new best friend, cackling. And Sam thought Dean didn’t even like dogs.</p><p>+++<br/>My episode re-writes, in a universe where Cas remained God, didn't release Leviathans on the world and almost explode (but he did mess up in other ways).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sirius Ascendant

This case is all kinds of weird. It’s not a vetala, but it’s gotta be some creature in a similar vein. Except that according to super geek Sammy, snakes either crush or poison you to death, neither does both. Their only potential witness is of the four-legged canine variety, and not even the kind that can spend time on two feet in human skin. All he does is bark when confronted by anyone wearing a cowboy hat. Finding a spell to talk to the dog seems like the only thing to do at this point. They call Kevin and get him and Henry on the job, looking for something they can use in the MoL’s archive of all things freaky and/or magical.

About two seconds later, there is a familiar flutter of wings. “Hey, Samandriel,” says Sam in surprise. The Colonel’s head jumps up from where it had been resting on his paws, lounging on the cheap motel carpet. But he doesn’t bark; score one for the mutt. Samandriel drops his head in a swift bow that Dean hasn’t been able to drill out of him. Kid’s just too damn polite.

“What’s up, Alfie?” Dean asks, curious. Samandriel’s usually pretty glued to their prophet’s side.

“Kevin mentioned that you needed to speak to a member of the animal kingdom?” The baby-faced angel smiles in the Colonel’s direction. “I may be of some assistance.”

“Wait, angels can do that?” Sam sits up, before giving Dean a look that clearly says his brother thinks Dean’s mentally deficient for not mentioning this sooner.

“No, they can’t. Or not all of them, anyway.” Dean disagrees, but Samandriel shakes his head.

“On the contrary, it is an innate ability. However, since the General has oft mentioned how he ‘switches off’ the sound-waves of the Heavenly Host, I believe he may have inadvertently blocked the ability to converse in animal-tongue also.”

Sam’s glare ratchets up a knot or two.

“What, so I just tune into Angel Radio and we’re good to go?” Dean asks, keen to get this show on the road. And for Sam to stop trying to burn him with his eyeballs, Christ. It wasn’t as though Dean knew cutting out the angel voices was going to affect this particular case. “All right, but this better not take long. I’m not spending all day flying with the cuckoos.”

Samandriel smiles indulgently at him, like he thinks their fearless leader’s discomfort with angels and their problems is endearing. “I believe there is a way to access the ability you desire without ‘tuning in’ to the Host. If you will allow me?”

He tentatively holds out a hand towards Dean’s face, waiting for permission before touching skin. Dean nods and Samandriel’s cool palm rests gently against Dean’s cheek. He closes his eyes and Dean follows suit, feeling a familiar channel of communication open between them.

 **Let your grace fall into alignment with mine,** Samandriel thinks at him, **I too have closed off my connection to the Host.**

Dean allows his grace to rush over Samandriel’s, cataloguing every crest and trough of the weaker angel’s electromagnetic grace on its continuous tumbling roll through his vessel and beyond. He copies the alignment in his own body, feeling the same mental flex that signifies tuning into the Host and how it stops halfway, a rush of new sensations, wittering voices all clawing for attention before they subside into his subconscious. He feels Samandriel’s hand drop away and opens his eyes to Sam’s half-curious, half-concerned look. Samandriel takes a step back before disappearing with a gentle flutter. Dean reassures Sam with a quick quirk of his lips in a one-sided smile.

Then he turns to give the Colonel his full attention. “Let’s get this party started. Tell me everything you know.”

The Colonel gives him a yawn. **Well, here goes nothing...**

“It’s working!”

 **Apparently all you needed was a little touching up by your boyfriend.** The dog says with a chuckle.

“Alfie’s not my boyfriend!” Dean argues, “I'm married. Alfie’s an angel. I’m an archangel; that’s how we pass messages.”

 **Keep telling yourself that, buddy,** the Colonel says, his furry ear giving a little twitch.

“Why are you arguing with the dog? About Alfie?” Sam cuts in, giving Dean a _what the hell, dude_ with his silent judgy looks. Dean clears his throat, getting back on track.

“Right- um, hey, boy. What were you trying to tell us about Cowboy Hat?”

 **The douchewheeler who killed my best friend was wearing one.** The dog confirms their suspicions.

“And the pothead too?” Dean asks, trying to settle the debate that the kid from the animal shelter was also killed by the same guy, regardless of snakey differences.

**Yup, same guy killed both.**

Sam’s stomach announces its past time he ate, and Dean zaps him down the street where he knows there’s a fast food joint. He continues to question the dog about the missing cats, which unfortunately he couldn’t see properly. However, the Colonel does have some information; the perp smelled like ground chunk, soap suds, and old-lady cream. Whatever that means.

He relays this information to Sam when he comes back about twenty minutes later carrying a paper bag. There’s nothing for Dean, but it’s been a long time since he bothered trying to eat anything, save for the pie exception. Sam powers through his lunch, now that they can go back to the animal shelter and actually get some statements from the inmates. Before they can set off though, things get weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Sam scrunches up his food wrapper and tosses it in the bin on the other side of Dean. Without even thinking about it, Dean picks it back out and rolls it back along the table to his brother. Foreigner’s “I want to know what love is” has just started playing on the little motel radio, and the Colonel’s head jerks up.

 **Change the station,** he demands. Dean looks at him in confusion, whilst Sam picks the food wrapper back up.

“I don’t want this,” he says, but Dean is too busy wondering about dogs and music preferences.

“What?” Dean asks the dog, “What’s wrong with this?”

 **You call this classic rock?** he scoffs, **Next thing you know, they’ll be playing Styx.**

Dan just blinks at that. The food wrapper goes sailing past his face again. He causally picks it back off the floor - Sam missed - and tosses it back.

 **And Dennis DeYoung?** the Colonel continues, **A punk.**

“Dennis DeYoung's not a punk. He's Mr. Roboto, bitch.”  
  
Sam cuts into their argument with an incredulous; “Are you arguing with the dog about Styx, now?”

The day just devolves from there.

\--

After Dean stops playing fetch and starts barking at the mailman, Sam feels that answers are needed. He says a quick prayer to Samandriel, who returns promptly. The angel is more than a little embarassed that whatever mind-meld he did with Dean didn’t work properly. Angels and archangels are fundamentally different, as Dean has tried to explain on more than one occasion. It’s not until Samandriel starts stammering about how Dean’s grace is so much more powerful, and he hadn’t anticipated their ‘alignment’ would work so well that Sam understands it. Or at least, understands it a bit better.

Dean’s pretty pissed at the miscalculation, so much so that Samandriel looks resigned to a smiting. Dean stops being a dick once Sam points this out. Dean then sends Samandriel back to Kevin with assurances that he’s not that mad, and the treatment did have the intended effect and has been useful.

They take the Impala to the animal shelter; Sam doesn’t feel like flying twice in one day, thanks. Dean nearly shoots a pigeon before they even get in the car, and Sam resolves to get this mojo reversed as soon as possible. Even if Dean allowing Sam to drive so he can stick his head out of the window, and then _making eyes at a poodle_ is completely hilarious. Dean defending the Colonel is all manner of strange though.

Sam then gets persuaded to give a Yorkie a belly rub in exchange for information. Which would be fine if it weren’t for the fact that Dean revealed that the Yorkie found him attractive, and apparently called him a ‘tall drink’; which is knowledge Sam could happily have lived his whole life without knowing, “Oh my god, Dean!”

Dean just flounces off with his new best friend, cackling. And Sam thought Dean didn’t even _like_ dogs.

The Yorkie’s clues lead them to a closed restaurant on Main St, and after they kick the waiter and sous chef out, they find a shaman book and their freak-of-the-week’s recipe cards. They split up to look for him, and Sam finds his brother standing over the chef's dead body, which is still smoking on the corridor floor. Dean has blood on his neck, but the cut’s already healed. Apparently the dude had massive claws and slit Dean's neck open, deep enough to kill. Just another reason for Sam to be grateful for Dean’s new everlasting life.

They take the shaman book and Chef Leo’s recipes with them; another one for the archives. The man was using the animal mixtures to try and cure his cancer. He may have failed, epically, but there’s no telling what future Men of Letters may require from a book like this. Of course, Dean will still be around, no matter how far in the future, but he could be living exclusively in Heaven by then. He seems pretty determined to stick by Sam’s side, alive or dead. And after all the shit they’ve been through, Sam really doesn’t have a problem with that. Life, or death, without Dean is an anathema to him now.

Sam suggests they give the Colonel to the hippies they’d questioned early on in the case, but Dean says he's got a better idea.

\--

Henry’s sipping his girly herbal tea and reading a MoL file when Dean flies in.

“Kevin’s at the shooting range.” he says, sparing Dean a quick smile before going back to his work.

Dean immediately feels like shit.

“I didn’t come to see Kevin, I came to see you.” he says. Henry is pleasantly taken aback, and finally seems to notice the German Shepherd at Dean’s his feet.

“Is this the animal with which you needed to converse?”

Dean grins. Henry’s overly formal language, and attire (always with the snappy suits), are a feature of his grandpa he’s started to appreciate. It’s reassuring; no matter how crazy the situation, Henry’s always unflappable.

“Yup, this is the Colonel. As he’s yours, now. If you want.”

Henry sets down his tea and rounds the table, kneeling in front of the dubious dog. “Hey boy, you like sausages? I’ve got leftovers.”

 **Lead the way old-timer,** the Colonel barks happily.

Dean watches them head off together, Henry’s steps seeming far lighter than usual. As though he’s finally not so weighed down by guilt. It’s a step in the right direction that Dean’s more than happy to count in the win column. He takes wing and returns to his brother, ready to get back on the road.


End file.
